


We All Fall Down

by TheTyphonSerpent



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Flash Fiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: After the chantry explosion, Anders has to run. But where will he run to? Does he have anywhere to go?





	We All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a tumblr prompt! Find me on tumblr and send me more prompts: typhonserpent.tumblr.com

Anders was tired.

Copper at the back of his throat. Lungs on fire. Sweat stinging his eyes.

_“Just go.”_ Hawke had said.

Just go as if it were that simple.

As if he had anywhere _to_ go.

His feet were carrying him habitually in a direction that he didn’t fully process. Far, far away from the gallows and the chantry and the fighting. He didn’t even fully process where he was until the door prevented him from walking any further. Familiar cobwebs dusted the corners of the sorry stone porch. He raised a sunken face to see the peeling paint and rusty knocker, and froze.

Fenris wasn’t here, and he knew the door would be unlocked, but it still didn’t feel right to just _go in_ as if he were _welcome_. 

He rubbed his eyes, groaning as he rested his forehead against the cool wood door. He would have been content to stay there all night, if the voices behind him didn’t make him scurry inside like a frightened mouse.

Chest pangs from his heart hammering. What were they saying? Had they seen him? He took a half-step towards the door before his legs grew rigid. What if they _came in?_

He ran up the stairs.

He found himself in the master bedroom. He couldn’t say whether his legs carried him out of habit or the search for safety. Just the _sight_ of the bed made him exhausted. If he was here, he may as well lay down.

On one of the nights when insomnia was gripping Anders, they had gone through the entire mansion and collected every towel, sheet, and blanket that was even remotely salvageable. Now, the bedding atop the bed piled higher than the mattress. There was a habitually-used groove in the center of the pile, though when Anders laid down, he only filled half of it.

He didn’t know how long he’d closed his eyes for, but he awoke to Fenris’ voice.

“Anders?”

He blinked, rubbed some crust from his eyes, and forced himself to rise despite the ache in his chest. Fenris was at the foot of the bed, absolutely _coated_ in blood, a good half of his hair already crusted red, much of which was likely coming from the scrape on the side of his head or the massive cut on his arm.

“They are scouring the city for you, mage. Why are you _here?”_ Fenris spat.

And just like that, it all came crashing down.

Justice was gone, and he was a traitor, and Hawke didn’t want him, and mages were dying, and Fenris was snapping at him, and all of a sudden his shirt and cheeks were soaked in tears and he couldn’t get more than a word out between sobs.

“I … m’sorry … I … had no … nowhere … else t … to go.” He choked.

Clawed gauntlets on either shoulder, forcing him to meet wide, green eyes. “Anders … Just _go_.”

“I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT YOU!” He screeched, like a child throwing a tantrum, then covered his mouth and let his eyes droop back to the blankets.

“Everything hurts. Being with you is the only good thing in the world anymore.” Anders mumbled.

Fenris sighed. There was a dull _plop_ as a drop of blood from his arm fell onto the blankets.

“You’re hurt.” Anders reached out, just barely managed to summon the blue glow at his fingertips before Fenris pulled him in.

With his shirt pressed against Fenris’ armor, arms wrapped around his ribs, Anders felt his whole body melt like ice into water. He tucked his head under the elf’s chin. He could feel the vibration in Fenris’ throat when the warrior hummed, and the breath against the top of his head when Fenris spoke.

“You will need a disguise.”

“Can I heal you first?”

Fenris sighed, “Very well.”

Anders scooted until his legs were dangling off the bed. After sealing the cut on Fenris’ arm, he urged the elf to kneel so he could reach his head. The scrape left a thin stripe of pink skin in Fenris’ hair. Anders tried ruffling the hair around it to little avail, the more he tried to cover it, the more think the hairline became, and the more it became obvious that he was trying to cover it. Eventually, Fenris gripped his wrist, forcing him to stop.

Anders felt heat rush to his cheeks when Fenris kissed the back of his hand.

“For however long I can stand, I will stand by you. Not by duty, but by choice.”

“Fenris …” Anders breathed, clutching his chest.

“But for now,” Fenris withdrew a dagger from his boot, “I will cut your hair.”

Anders deadpanned, “W … wait, are you serious?”

“The guards will be looking for a mage with long blonde hair. They won’t look twice at a bald man.”

Anders clutched the sides of his hair, “You are _not_ shaving me bald!”

“It will grow back.” Fenris stood and cocked an eyebrow, “Would you rather be arrested and tried for treason?”

His face cherry-red and still clutching his hair, Anders turned away from Fenris with a pout.

“Come on then,” He continued, “If do this quickly, we can catch a boat before the chaos subsides.”


End file.
